


Drive Darling

by prettyboysintheimpala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Conent (at some point), M/M, Mild Angst, Road Trip, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Writer!Dean, i mean really slow, lame pop culture references, lawyer!Cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 02:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyboysintheimpala/pseuds/prettyboysintheimpala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a writer who goes on a lonely road trip to seek inspiration for his new book. What he finds instead is Castiel, an ex-lawyer with emotional baggage and messy hair, who agrees to join him. They hit the road and with every mile lost behind them, the two strangers grow closer together, but that's just how it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fast Car

**Author's Note:**

> I want this story to feel like a real road trip, so I won't rush anything - buckle up, you're in for a long ride. There will be weekly updates every Sunday, probably around midnight. I'm not sure what else I should say here - enjoy, I guess? This story is my happy place, so I hope you will feel good here, too.
> 
> I would like to thank Peri and Audrey for supporting me and encouraging to keep writing - my darlings, I dedicate this entire story to you.
> 
> Btw, the title of the story comes from "Drive Darling" by Boy, and the title of the chapter from "Fast Car by Tracy Chapman". Both songs are amazing :)  
> Now, shall we begin?

### Chaper 1 - Fast Car

Dean Winchester was a man of small luxuries and he appreciated all the little things in life: long showers cleansing not only his body, but also his mind; the smell of fresh coffee in the morning, the softness of his memory foam mattress, lazy Sundays spent with his brother on an old, threadbare couch with beers in their hands and nothing on their minds. But one thing he loved the most was the sound of his car’s engine roaring in his ears as he drove her down an empty highway, speed limit long forgotten, along with every trivial worry clouding his mind. Even though such moments of perfection weren’t rare, each of them was like a katharsis, nirvana, heavenly orgasm or any other cliché found in bad poetry and lazy writing, and they made him feel alive, they made him feel whole. So as he was speeding down the road with the lights of Chicago lost in the rear-view mirror, he couldn’t help but grin. He’s been driving for five hours straight, stopping just once to have coffee in a little wayside diner that looked like taken straight from a Tarantino movie, and even though his arms were getting stiff and he could really use a bathroom brake, he didn’t care. He missed this. Missed the sound of his baby, not as much purring as fucking growling, like a lioness let out of her cage. Missed the steady rhythm of the wheels spinning on the ground and the rattling sound of a lego that got stuck in the vent system all those years ago.

And now he was on the road again and his life just went from pretty okay to fucking awesome. Dean Winchester wasn’t coming up with good ideas very often but when he did, they were bordering on genius. And this particular idea to hit the road and gather his thoughts on the open plains of Midwest was by far one of the best he’s ever had, together with setting up the surround system in his apartment and joining that LARPing team Charlie had been bothering him about for ages. He left from Chicago in the dead of night like a fugitive, and he silently wished he really was one, but the sad, unexciting truth was that he just wanted to avoid the rush hours. What was the point of having a car like his baby, when you were stuck in traffic between a Prius and an old Ford? No, both he and his Impala belonged on the open road, just like the one they were currently roaming.

“Good morning, sunshine” Dean muttered when the sun poked over the horizon. After living alone for so long he developed a pathetic habit of talking to himself. It happened soon after he started working on his first book, when some of the lines he wanted to write sounded so clumsy and awkward that he had to hear himself say them out loud to find a way to smooth them. But it didn’t just stop there and before he realized, he was talking to people on TV (“Oh come on, can’t you see this bastard has been cheating on you for like three episodes now?”) and making comments about his mundane activities (“Fuck, gotta buy cereal again”). After all, it was only so long that he could fill the silence in his apartment with Led Zeppelin and street noise.

It wasn’t that Dean was a sad lonely boy with no social life outside of the fiction of his stories. He had his bother, and the rest of the family, blood or not. He also had occasional hookups that never lasted more than a week but hey, it still counted. He just preferred to socialize once in blue moon and then come back to the safety of his home office, where he could sit in front of the laptop Sam bought for him and just write. Sometimes though his apartment felt both too small and too empty for him, and even re-enacting the dance scene from Risky Business wasn’t fun anymore. On such days the best remedy for blues was talking with Sammy for hours, or playing online games with Charlie and getting his ass kicked big time. So yeah, Dean Winchester wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t a party animal either and maybe, just maybe, he could use some company once in a while.

Like right in this moment, when the night was slowly fading away and the sky coating the plains changed its colours from deep blue relentlessly struggling out of the black, to a shy brush of pink and gold, and the world seemed almost bearable. Dean preferred sunrises to sunsets. They felt more private and slightly less cheesy. Any douchebag could watch the sun go to rest, but dawns were meant only for insomniacs and lunatics, and he happened to be both. He just wished he had someone to share them with, as lame as it sounds.

He rolled into a small town a few hours later, just around the time when cafés and diners were being open. Since so far his early breakfast consisted of granola bars and a pack of jelly beans, he decided to stop for something Sam would call “an actual breakfast, Dean. With vitamins and nutritions and a list of ingredients that doesn’t begin and end with sugar”. So he found a nice looking diner and parked his baby on the curb just by the entrance. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by a quiet ding of a bell hanging above the door, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and a sleepy smile of the woman behind the counter. She was in her forties and she looked like she has had a rough night. She wasn’t wearing any make-up, not that Dean could tell, her thin blond hair was tied up in a pony tail, and she had dark circles under her eyes.

“A mother” Dean thought automatically. It was his private hobby to observe strangers and come up with little stories about them, their habits and quirks, their dreams and fears. It was a childish play, but he liked to think it was good practice for his imagination, so crucial to his job. A small voice at the back of his head liked to point out that it was also a good way of fighting the loneliness, but Dean always did his best to ignore it. After all, Sam liked to call him Cleopatra, Queen of De Nile for a reason.

Walking towards the counter, Dean flashed an apologetic smile at the woman – Helen, according to the name tag attached to her uniform.

“Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour” he said. “I’ve been driving for a few hours straight and I figured it was time for a break and well, you guys were open, so…” he trailed off, shrugging. Helen smiled at him and waved her hand dismissively.

“It’s okay. That’s what we’re here for, right? So, what can I get you?”.

Dean studied the menu laid out on the counter, while Helen waited patiently for his order. When he heard her yawn, he looked up and smiled at her with empathy.

“Rough night, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea” she sighed. “My little boy is sick and I stayed up all night waiting by his bed. He was better this morning, thank God, but still I wish I could take a day off and be with him. But, money don’t grow on trees, so here I am” she made a vague gesture with her hand and Dean thought she looked almost young. He gave her his order (a plate of pancakes with maple syrup and a pot of fresh coffee) and went to sit by the nearest table, promising himself to leave a big tip.

By the time his food arrived, more patrons entered the diner. Dean observed them with mild interest and they didn’t spare him a moment of their attention in return. Some of them rushed in and out, probably just stopping by for coffee on their way to work, others sat listlessly in their booths and looked around sleepily, with one foot still in the dreamland. At this time of the day Chicago was a giant beehive buzzing with life and traffic, but this small town seemed more like a pot of warm syrup luring bees in with its sweetness, only to have them drown in it, and Dean was immensely grateful when Helen brought him his coffee. A few moments more without caffeine in his system and he would surely fall asleep or die out of boredom.

The pancakes were surprisingly delicious and he all but vacuum-sucked them in. Sam and Jess would probably make comments about his eating habits and how much they resembled that of a starved pig, but he couldn’t care less. Food and sex were two of the few simple pleasures he enjoyed most in life, and Dean decided a long time ago that he wouldn’t let anyone ruin them for him. If he wanted to eat three burgers in a row, he ate them with no regrets. If he wanted to sleep with someone, guy or woman, he did and that was it. It was his simple recipe for happiness and he was willing to flip off anyone who would dare to judge him.

He washed down the last bite of pancakes with coffee and went to the bathroom, stopping on his way there to ask Helen for the bill. When he returned to his table, Dean fished out a pile of banknotes from the pocket of his jeans and picked out the right amount of money, adding in a large tip for Helen. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but she reminded him of his mom. He stopped by the door to wink at her, and she responded with a bright, beautiful smile. They nodded at each other in a silent goodbye, and then Dean was already outside, breathing in the warm, mellow air of an early summer morning.

It was the last week of June and even though the day hasn’t even fully blossomed yet, the sun was already petting the world with its golden embrace. Dean looked around, considering taking a stroll down the street, just to stretch his legs before the ride. He wasn’t in a hurry, hell, he didn’t even know when his next stop would be or where he was going to spend the night. That was the charm of spontaneous roadtrips – driving wherever the road would take him, stopping in random places on a whim, facing the unknown. His ultimate destination was San Francisco, where his brother and Jess, his fiancé, were spending the summer holiday. Jess’ parents owned a beautiful house on the beach, the kind they always show in all those movies about middle-aged women who go through a divorce and decide to change their lives by renting a small house by the ocean, where they inevitably fall in love with a gentle, but passionate men and the credits roll when they’re standing on the beach, holding hands or some shit. Sam and Jess invited him over, saying that the house was a perfect place for him to start working on his new book, but he would’ve agreed on living in a simple shed as long as it meant spending time with them. And the invitation was a convenient excuse to hit the road and gather his thoughts.

After the success of his last novel, Tessa, his publisher, had been pressing him to write another one and do it soon, but the truth was he was out of ideas. Zero. Null. Nada. No inspiration whatsoever. He was stuck and it was almost painful, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. And then Sam called, all cheerful and excited as always, and told him to move his fat ass and join them in San Francisco as soon as he could. Five minutes later and Dean was already half-way packed and running around his apartment to get all his stuff, while trying to explain to Tessa over the phone that a roadtrip was exactly what he needed to find an inspiration and start writing again.

And that’s how he had found himself in that sleepy little town at 8 in the morning on a pleasant summer day. The sky was clear and unnervingly blue, but there was something in the air that smelled like a promise of a storm. Dean decided to give up on the walk, there wasn’t anything worth seeing in this godforsaken place anyway, so he got back into his car and pulled out of the curb. The magic of the dawn was long gone and it no longer felt like a violation of a special moment, so he turned on the radio and turned up the volume. Tracy Chapman’s song was on and Dean happened to know the words. His lips moved silently as he mouthed out the lyrics:

_So remember we were driving, driving in your car_

_Speed so fast I felt like I was drunk ___

_City lights lay out before us_

_And your arm felt nice wrapped ‘round my shoulder_

_I had a feeling that I belonged_

_I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone_

Before the song even ended, he managed to leave the town behind and get on an open road again. He was heading North-West, planning on visiting his uncle in South Dakota. If Bobby ever found out that Dean was on the road and didn’t even bother to stop by, he’d probably whoop his ass and then sulk for months. He was a grumpy old man, but he loved both Dean and Sam like his own, and Dean would rather crush his baby into a bridge than miss out on an opportunity of visiting him. Besides, Bobby owned a car shop and he had always let Dean help him out with the cars, even when he was just a little boy. He loved working on the vehicles, fixing them up and putting them back together, and if writing hadn’t been his biggest passion, he probably would’ve become a mechanic.

As he droved on, he paid little attention to the blurred world he was passing by, the heavy clouds gathering ahead of him being the only diversity from the monotonic scenery of the Interior Plains. The songs on the radio flew right over his head and he was so absorbed with his thoughts that he didn’t even notice when it started raining. A few single drops silently fell on the roof of the car, before a heavy curtain of rain hit the windshield, followed by a distant growl of a thunder. While the wipers worked frantically, trying to keep up with the sudden flood, Dean slowed down and cursed under his breath. He hated driving in the rain, when his vision was limited, the road slippery as fuck, and the sky looked like Zeus and Thor were having a drunk duel. Worst still, the road he was on wasn’t completely secluded. There were houses and public buildings on either side of it, as well as strings of cars and trucks going in both directions, which only increased his chances of having  
a close encounter of the third kind with the Volvo ahead of him or even worse, some poor bastard standing too close to the highway.

Speaking of poor bastards, either the rain was really fucking with Dean’s eye-sight, or there actually was someone walking dangerously close to the road. The man was a few car lengths ahead of the Impala, but his tall figure was a distinct presence against the grey canvas of the wayside and Dean thought the guy must have been either fearless or plain stupid to go out in weather like that, let alone walk casually alongside a flooded highway. He was wearing a beige trenchcoat, now completely soaked, and had a duffel bag – also soaking wet – thrown carelessly over his shoulder. It was all Dean could tell from such distance, but it was enough to make him feel sorry for the guy. He wasn’t exactly eager to pick up hitch-hikers or let any strangers inside his car, but something about the man walking alone in a heavy downpour made him slow down and drive closer to the edge of the road. When he got closer to the lonely figure, he turned off the radio and rolled down the window on the passenger’s side.

“Hey, are you suicidal or something?” Dean shouted, trying to be louder than the rain. The man jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice and turned to face him.

“I’m- I’m sorry?” he said, confused. He didn’t stop walking and Dean was forced to roll his car at an agonizingly slow tempo to stay on the same level with him.

“I said, are you suicidal? What the hell are you doing, walking so close to the road when it looks like we should be building another ark, huh? It’s only a matter of time when some careless douchebag goes all hit and run on you. Get in the car”. He pushed on the brake and reached out to open the passenger’s door. The stranger stopped too, looking at him with a unique mix of disbelief and scepticism.

“Do you really expect me do get in your in car just because you told me to?” he asked, and Dean huffed with irritation.

“No, I expect you to hop in my sweet ride because that’s your best chance to avoid drowning or getting hit by a truck. Now, get your ass in here before I change my mind and drive off into the sunset all by myself”.

That seemed to work. The man looked around, but there were no other offers of a rescue, so he sighed heavily and finally got inside the car. Dean cringed at the sight of his wet trenchcoat touching the seat, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he pulled back on the road and drove off, as careful and steady as he could.

After a moment of silence, when the only sounds reaching their ears were the haul of the storm and the muffled purring of the engine, the man spoke.

“Thank you” he said quietly, but without even a shadow of shyness in his voice. Dean waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t mention it. I just couldn’t leave you there to an almost certain death. I may not be an altruist, but I’m not a selfish bastard even” he glanced at his companion just in time to see a small smile playing at his lips. Watch the road, Winchester. He looked away and cleared his throat.

“So, where are you going?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. The man beside him sighed softly and ran a hand through his wet hair.

“I was heading for the nearest bus station” he explained. “Some people I met in the town told me that it was only a few miles down the road”.

Dean risked another glance, his brow furrowed. “So you just wanted to walk a few miles in this apocalyptic weather?”

The only answer he got was a small shrug.

“I don’t mind the rain” the man said simply and Dean snorted.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Gene Kelly. Ah, that reminds me- “ he raised his right hand from the wheel and stuck it out at an awkward angle. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester”.

The man stared at his out-stretched palm for a second before grabbing it.

“Castiel Milton” he said. His grip was surprisingly strong and firm, and Dean liked it. His father might not have been a kind of guy anyone should be looking up to, but he had taught him a few important life lessons, one of them being “don’t trust a man who won’t even shake your hand properly”. With a simple gesture the man – Castiel – made a good first impression. Well actually, if Dean was being honest with himself, Castiel made a good first impression the moment he opened his mouth to speak. He had a beautiful voice – deep and gravely and incredibly hot. As in, holy-fuck hot. Even with the heavy rain howling down every other sound around them, Castiel’s voice managed to made its way under Dean’s skin and settle there in a way he really didn’t want to dwell on right now. It buzzed every now and then, like there was an animal living inside Castiel’s body, wild and powerful, desperate to break free and roar into the night, and Dean thought that if his car was human, it would sound just like that.

When Castiel finally let go of his hand, Dean subconsciously flexed his fingers, as if to chase away the memory of the touch, or maybe to keep it safe, he wasn’t sure. The silence fell again between them, as the rain kept falling down. Dean considered turning on the radio, but decided against it, and so the silence stretched. It wasn’t exactly awkward or uncomfortable, but he still felt like he should break it, say something, say anything.

“So, uh…” he started, and Castiel jerked, pulled out of his thoughts. “You said you were headed to the bus station, but you never said where you wanted to go next”.

“Oh, I don’t have any destination in mind” the guy replied, and Dean could almost hear the shrug in his voice.

“No destination at all? So what, you’re just going to get on a random bus and go wherever it takes you?”

Castiel nodded. “Pretty much, yes”.

“Huh”.

“And where are you going, if I may ask?” the man countered, his big baby blues fixated on Dean’s face. As a writer, Dean tried his best to avoid clichés, overly sophisticated metaphors and all that jazz, but right now he couldn’t help but think oh my God that dude’s voice is like honey poured over sunflower seeds and I want to bath in it forever.

“San Francisco” he said instead. “My brother’s there with his fiancé and they invited me over. But first I’m just gonna drive around the country for a while, taste the life on the road, wind in my hair, y’know?” he grinned at Castiel, who responded with an amused huff.

“That’s basically what I’m up to, too” he said, holding Dean’s gaze. They stared at each other for  
a moment, before Dean remembered himself and turned back towards the road.

The rain hasn’t stopped at all, if anything it only intensified. It seemed like God decided to pour the fucking Atlantic Ocean through a giant sieve and throw in some thunders and apocalyptic wind just for shit and giggles. Thick, heavy raindrops were relentlessly attacking the world like it personally offended them, landing on the surface of the car with a loud thud and successfully preventing any other sound from reaching their ears. Dean figured that the bus station Castiel wanted to get to couldn’t be that far away now, but just the thought of making him leave the safety of the car in weather like that made him cringe. The guy was still soaked, his wet hair sticking out in odd directions where he had run his hand through it, and the coat that normally was probably beige was now dark-brown. Even worse, Dean was pretty sure that he caught Castiel shiver at least once. So no, dropping him off at some filthy bus station in the middle of nowhere wasn’t even an option. Fortunately for both of them, they have just passed a wooden sign with a name of an inn written in big, red letters, and an indication that it was only a mile away. Without thinking much about it, he turned towards Castiel.

“Hey Cas, there’s a tavern not far from here. How about we stop there to dry up and maybe eat something warm, huh? It’d be better to wait out the storm anyway. Unless of course you’re on tight schedule or something”.

Castiel seemed to consider it for a while, obviously taken aback by the offer. Dean caught himself holding his breath, even though he didn’t know why. It wasn’t like he desperately wanted to have lunch with the guy. Sure, he wasn’t a fan of driving in the rain, let alone a near-biblical flood like the one currently waltzing through that part of Illinois, but if Cas preferred to get to the station as fast as possible, he could just drop him off and then hide somewhere safe and warm by himself. But when his companion finally muttered a “sure, why not”, Dean couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright then, let’s park my baby and grab a bite, how ‘bout that?” he said, driving into the parking lot of the inn with a charming name Golden Apple.

The tavern was exactly what they needed at the moment – warm, bright and welcoming. The walls were made of huge wooden logs piled up on each other, and the wooden floor boards creaked happily under their feet. The short run from the car to the main door left them completely soaked, but the warmth of the inn almost immediately spread through their bones and settled there. Dean looked around, taking it all in. The décor was simple, but homely – big tables, either bare or covered with chequered cloths, corny watercolour landscapes hanging on the walls next to deer antlers and a few stuffed animals, small vases with fresh flowers on every table and a wide fireplace with golden-red flames dancing excitedly and filling the room with blissful warmth. Some of the tables were already occupied by other patrons, each of them representing a different degree of being wet. Apparently Dean and Castiel weren’t the only people who decided to hide from the storm in Golden Apple.

“It’s very nice in here” Castiel said, his eyes searching the room for the best place to sit. Dean hummed in agreement.

“Yup, looks pretty sweet. Hey, you think they have pie?”. But before Castiel could respond, Dean’s attention was drawn by a small lonely table closest to the fire place.

“Let’s go sit there. I can already feel my skin wrinkle from too much water and you need to dry up like yesterday”.

They crossed the room and settled comfortably in big wooden chairs opposite each other. A young, friendly-looking waitress approached them as soon as they sat down and handed them two menus. They didn’t need much time to make up their minds. They both ordered burgers with fries, coke and coffee, and Dean had to swallow down his disappointment when the waitress informed him that they were out of pie.

“Story of my life” he sighed heavily and both Cas and the girl looked at him with sympathy.

When she left to bring them their orders, a comfortable silence filled the space between them. They were finally warm, coated by the heat radiating from the fire, and if Dean could get any more comfortable he would probably start to purr. Castiel shrugged off his trenchcoat and hung it over the back of his chair, revealing a simple grey tee and an unbuttoned blue shirt he was wearing underneath it. Then he run a hand through his hair again, still looking around the room with  
a patient face and wandering eye.

And Dean wasn’t staring. Not even a little, not even at all. It’s just that it was the first time he could take a good look at the stranger he picked up from the side of the road and wow. To say that the guy was good looking was like saying that the Lord of the Rings trilogy was kinda cool – a huge understatement. The big baby blues that caught Dean’s attention earlier were now glittering in the light coming from the fireplace and that was about the gayest thought that has ever crossed his mind, and he was thinking about having sex with dudes on a daily basis. To make things worse, Castiel’s jawline – a fine jawline, at that – was covered in delicious stubble and Dean had to fight the urge to slam his head on the table. He purposefully didn’t look any further down, like at Castiel’s exposed throat, or his collarbones, or his hands with long fingers and a firm grip. It was just his luck to accidentally pick up a ridiculously hot guy. Bravo, Winchester. You deserve a slow clap for that.

Before Dean could look away, Castiel’s eyes met his and held his gaze, like they did back in the car. They stared at each other, not saying anything, and just when it started to get really awkward and creepy, Castiel finally spoke.

“Thank you again for helping me out”.

“Ah, don’t mention it” Dean smiled reassuringly, unable to break the eye contact. He shifted in his sit, slightly embarrassed by the way Cas was just looking at him. And when did Castiel become Cas, anyway?

“Just so you know, I didn’t need your help. I was perfectly capable of getting to the bus station on my own, heavy rain or not” the man said, raising up his chin just so. Dean smirked at that. A feisty one, huh? Takes one to know one.

“I get it, you’re no damsel in distress” Dean’s smirk turned into a lopsided grin and Cas tilted his head slightly, never breaking the eye contact.

“Exactly” he said flatly. “But still, this…” his eyes searched the room for a moment, before settling back on Dean’s face “This is considerably nicer than walking alone during a storm, so thank you”.

“Like I said, don’t sweat it. And by the way, you should feel real special, Cas. Normally I don’t let any strangers inside my baby”.

Dean’s flirty smile was countered by Castiel’s confused frown.

“Your baby?”

“I mean my car, Cas”

“You call your car ‘baby’?” and there was that head tilt again. Dean squirmed, embarrassed.

“I’m uh… Very fond of her, okay?” he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the tablecloth. When he looked up again, Cas was still watching him, curiosity written all over his face. It looked good on him, Dean thought.

“It’s just that when I was a kid, we were moving a lot, always on the road, and for me and my brother that car was basically a home for a very long time, you know?” he explained, shrugging. Castiel seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

“Right, you told me you had a brother. The one who you’re going to visit in San Francisco?” he asked, and Dean could feel his own smile grow. He just couldn’t talk about Sammy without beaming with pride.

“Yeah, that’s the one. His name’s Sam and he’s a lawyer. He’s also taller than me, which is unacceptable for a little brother, and he’s going to get married to the most wonderful girl, Jess. He’s a lucky son of a bitch, that sasquatch, and I couldn’t be happier for him.”

A warm feeling settled in Dean’s chest, like it always did whenever he thought about his stupid little brother. When he looked at Cas, he could see a fond smile playing at his lips, followed by a more sorrowful expression.

“I used to be a lawyer, too” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah? And what happened?”

Castiel met his eyes again. “I quit, about a month ago”.

Dean knew an uncomfortable topic when he saw one, and by the way Castiel looked down and his jaw clenched, Dean could tell that it was time to abandon the ship and find something else they could talk about.

“And, uh… Do you have a brother? Or a sister?” it was the first thing that popped up in his brain, but as soon as he saw Castiel’s face drop and his eyes close for a second too long, he knew it was  
a bad hit. He wanted to take the words back, but it was already too late and all he could do was wait there for Castiel’s reaction like a deer caught in car lights.

“Not anymore” came the quiet reply and shit.

That was a whole new pandora box of issues and personal stuff that Dean really didn’t want to open. He wished he knew what happened to Castiel’s sibling, so that he could react appropriately, but asking him would mean making him talk about something that was obviously painful and what could’ve been a fresh wound, and Dean just couldn’t do that. Fortunately for him, the waitress picked that exact moment to bring them their order, and so both of them could get busy with their burgers and pretend that the conversation died down on its own.

After a moment of munching burgers and sipping surprisingly good coffee, Castiel spoke again.

“I never asked what do you do for a living”.

Dean swallowed down and smiled. He liked his job, liked talking about it, and if he was being honest with himself, he was kinda proud to be a writer. Dean Winchester, a high school drop-out with six bucks to his name, managed to do something right in his life. Maybe he didn’t create anything Tolkien-epic, didn’t make a fuckton of money writing about 50 shades of any colour and none of his books were turned into a million-dollar movies, but his name was on the bestseller lists one or four times and he had a bunch of dedicated fans who wrote supportive letters and attended his promotional meetings. And hell, it was more than enough for him.

“I’m a writer” he said, trying not to sound too damn proud of himself. Castiel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“A writer? That’s not what I expected”.

“Well, what did you expect?”

Castiel put down his burger and fixed his eyes on Dean, scrutinizing him. He even tilted his head and looked at him like Dean was a friggin’ artefact in a museum or something. This time he did his best not to squirm under Cas’ steady gaze, and mentally patted himself on the back for that small victory.

“A fire-fighter. Or a nurse, perhaps. Maybe a doctor, but certainly not a surgeon, not with hands like that. A teacher, that would be my guess, too. You’re willing to pick up a complete stranger just for the sake of helping him out, so that means you’re a person who likes to gratuitously help other people, take care of them. And taking under consideration the fact that your brother is a lawyer,  
I assumed that you come from a family of over-achievers, like I do, hence my guess at the professions highly respected by the society”.

Dean, who was at first rendered speechless by Castiel’s little expose, laughed bitterly at that.

“’Family of over-achievers’, that’s a good one, Cas. Real funny. My dad was a drunk who couldn’t keep a job for longer than two weeks, my uncle is an old mechanic who also likes alcohol a tad too much, and I didn’t even finish high school. So yeah, that was a crappy deduction, Sherlock” he said, not looking the other man in the eye. Silence fell between them and Dean immediately regretted all the tmi that spilled out of his stupid mouth. Just as he was about to take it all back and apologize for his over-sharing, Cas smiled at him gently, hesitantly.

“I’ve heard of plenty of high school drop-outs who ended up being something much worse than  
a writer, so maybe I wasn’t wrong about the over-achiever thing, just applied it to the wrong generation of your family”.

And once again, Dean was speechless. That was probably one of the nicest and most genuine things anyone has ever said to him, and the fond smile that accompanied the compliment stirred something in his chest, making him blush.

“That’s uh… That’s sweet, Cas. Thank you. But you didn’t even read any of my books, did ya?”

It was Castiel’s turn to blush with embarrassment.

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Being a lawyer doesn’t exactly leave you plenty of time to read for pleasure, or do just about anything for pleasure, for that matter. But now that I’m no longer employed, I guess I’ll have plenty of time to catch up”.

The conversation ran smoothly after that. They spent the whole lunch just talking, asking each other simple questions about their lives and even joking a little. Dean was surprised by how easy it was to talk to Castiel, listen to his rough, hoarse voice and watch that small smile play in the corners of his eyes. Before they even finished their second coffee Dean learnt that Cas was from Pontiac, Illinois, and that he wasn’t very good at understanding any kinds of references (and seriously, how come he didn’t get Dean’s joke about him being born in Kansas and how there was no place like home?). He now also knew that Castiel’s family was very religious and that he was named after an angel, which totally explained a few things.

There was just one slightly awkward moment when Cas asked him about the nickname he gave him and Dean could feel his ears burn red. In all honestly, he didn’t even know why he had let himself get so familiar with a guy who was basically a stranger to him, but Cas said he didn’t mind the short form of his name, in fact he liked it, and Dean wasn’t about to complain. In return, he talked a little more about Sammy and the rest of his friends, and answered like a dozen questions about his books. Cas seemed fascinated by the fact that he was talking to  
a real writer and Dean didn’t know if he was flattered or embarrassed by all the attention.

Their coffee cups were emptied for the second time and they still haven’t run out of things to talk about. The weather outside seemed to have calmed down a little, and even though it was still raining, it didn’t look like they should be gathering two animals of each species anymore. Whether it was a good or a bad thing, Dean didn’t know.

On one hand it meant that they could leave their warm, welcoming shelter and get on the road again, but it also meant that the time shared with Cas was inevitably coming to an end and soon enough they would be saying their goodbyes and parting ways for ever, and that was something he wasn’t looking forward to. He didn’t mind being on a road trip all by himself, but he sure could use some sweet company, and Cas seemed like a perfect choice. So before he could think twice about it, he blurted out:

“Hey Cas, you said that you weren’t going any place specific, right? You’re just gonna get on  
a random bus and then get off on a random stop in a random place, is that it?”

A new, almost playful expression showed on Castiel’s face.

“For a writer, you’re not very eloquent” he said smugly and Dean glared at him.

“Shut up. What I’m saying is… How about you just join me on the road, huh? Keruac-style”.

Castiel frowned, confused. Like almost two hours ago, Dean found himself holding his breath again and waiting for the guy’s reaction. This time though Cas wasn’t so easy to convince.

“Dean, I don’t want to abuse your good will and hospitality. You’ve already helped me and I’m grateful for that, I can’t just get in your car and be a burden to you”.

“A burden? Cas, don’t be stupid. I’d love for you to join me, okay? I’m a bit lonely and I could use  
some company, other than Bad. What’s so fun about road trips when there’s no one to share them with, anyway? Besides” he flashed his signature Winchester smile “I’ve got a fast car and you want a ticket to anywhere. So how about we make a deal and maybe together we can get somewhere?”

Castiel tiled his head – a signature Milton gesture, apparently – and smiled.

“Are you quoting Tracy Chapman?”

“Are you calling me out on quoting Tracy freaking Chapman?”

“Fair enough”.

“So what do you say, angel? Will you be the Sal Paradise to my Dean Moriarty?”

Cas went quiet again, considering the offer.

“Yes, Dean”.

And so twenty minutes later they were on the road again. Castiel’s trenchcoat and duffel bag were thrown into the Impala’s trunk, next to Dean’s luggage, and the world around them seemed a little bit less dull. ACDC was blasting through the speakers (House rule number one, Cas: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole), while an unfamiliar kind of warmth was slowly settling in Dean’s bones, that had nothing to do with the fire place in Golden Apple. The road ahead of them was an unknown, and all Dean could do was drive.


	2. Wayfaring Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean put on his most charming smile, ready to greet Cas with a cheerful “Howdy!”, but the smile froze on his face the moment Castiel opened the door.
> 
> The first thing he registered was _skin_. Miles of it, it seemed, tanned and beautiful, spreading right in front of him. Apparently Castiel liked to sleep in nothing but sweatpants. Good to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will be updated once a week, probably on Sundays. I don't know how many chapters there will be, we'll see how it goes. Feel free to leave a comment or contact be on tumlbr, my url is the same as in here. Enjoy! :)

The first day of their shared road trip was pleasant, but uneventful. After they left Golden Apple, they drove for a few hours, only stopping twice for bathroom brake and coffee. By the late afternoon the sky was clear again, but the memory of the morning storm was still trapped in the air, making Dean's head swim with every inhale.

Castiel was a nice companion, if only a little quiet. He didn't talk much, but he also didn't complain about Dean's choice of music (something that Sammy just couldn't shut up about) or about the way he drove his car (which might have been a little too aggressive, but Dean had always thought that both him and his baby were wild things and speed limit just didn't apply to them). So most of the rest of the day went by in silence, save for the Brian Johnson and Robert Plant sing-off, and Dean was content with it.

Sure, he was curious about his companion and the story hidden behind those ridiculous blue eyes that he knew would bring him trouble one day, but he didn't push it. They were just two strangers who decided to share their lonely journey and Dean figured it would take some time for them to open up to each other. Or hell, maybe that would never happen. Maybe they would travel together for a few days before it became too damn awkward and then they'd just say their goodbyes and part their ways for good. His decision to ask Castiel to join him was impulsive and six kinds of crazy, and he wouldn't be surprised if it didn't work out. But so far it was nice, the silence between them nothing short of comfortable, and Dean hoped that as the days went by and the miles got lost behind them, they would fall into an easy companionship.

There was just one thing he didn't consider – they were on the road together, and that meant driving, eating and sleeping at the same time, in the same places. It was never a problem with Sam – him and Dean were brothers in more than just blood and name, they shared many habits, sleeping in lousy motel rooms and eating in cheap diners being one of them. But what if it wasn't Castiel's kind of thing? What if the ex-hotshot lawyer preferred fancy hotels with beds that probably no one was ever murdered in, or with bathrooms uninhabited by twelve different kinds of mould? That was potentially problematic and Dean had to clear things up right away if he wanted to avoid any awkward misunderstandings.

Before saying anything, he glanced at his passenger to make sure he wasn't asleep. Castiel was sitting straight in his seat, clearly not comfortable enough around Dean and in his car to slump down or prop his knees on the dashboard like Sam always did, but he was leaning his head against the window in a way Dean would call adorable, if he ever used words like that. Which he didn't, and he sure as hell wasn't going to start using now, especially not when describing a grown up man like Cas. Still, that sight was oddly reassuring, like a confirmation that Castiel was in for a long ride and that Dean wasn't going to spend the journey alone.

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Cas” Dean begun, keeping his eyes on the road. “Back in the inn, when I asked you to join me, I didn't really think this whole thing through. It was an impulse, I don't even know what got into me. I mean, normal people just don't kidnap complete strangers and drag them on spontaneous road trips, which is basically what I did”. He didn't even have the chance to finish his thought before Castiel spoke.

“I see. You regret your decision and that's understandable. I know I'm not exactly a dream companion and like you said, we don't know each other. So if you prefer to drop me off in the nearest town, I won't mind”.

That took Dean by surprise. Getting rid of Cas didn't even cross his mind and the idea seemed so out of place that for a moment there he wasn't even sure if they were having the same conversation. Utterly confused, he looked at Cas and frowned.

“What? No, that's not where I was going with this. It's like the opposite of what I wanted to say, actually. No one's dropping you off anywhere, unless you want to go” he said and paused, waiting for an answer. Castiel apparently didn't notice that it was his cue. After a moment of silence, Dean sighed.

“Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to go” Dean muttered, exasperated. Another second of silence, and then

“No, I don't think so.”

Dean nodded, satisfied with the answer.

“Good, this is good. See, that's exactly what I mean – we need to talk, you know? Communicate, or shit like that. If we want this” he gestured between them “to work out, we should discuss a few things, just to make sure we're on the same page”.

“Of course, yes” Castiel seemed more relax now and Dean smiled at that.

“Yeah, ok. Let's get this party started then, shall we?” he flashed a cocky smile at Cas before focusing back on the road. “So, first things first. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Been driving for over 12 hours straight and now all I can think of is wrapping myself in a nice warm blanket and heading straight for the dreamland” as on a cue, a loud yawn escaped his mouth. He covered it with his hand and muttered a quick “sorry” before continuing. “The thing is, I don't do fancy hotels, I'm more of a Bates motel kinda guy, you know what I mean? Sam and I always stay in the cheapest places, but if you prefer something less gross then that's fine, we can look for a nice bed and breakfast, if you want”.

“That won't be necessary” Castiel assured. “I don't mind cheap motels, in fact I'd prefer it that way”.

“Seriously”? Dean raised his eyebrow in honest surprise. “I thought all lawyers were into five stars hotels and whatnot”.

“Didn't you say your brother was a lawyer?”

“Well, yeah, but you know. It's Sammy”.

“And I'm Castiel. Your point?”

Huh. Dude was smart, he had to give him that.

“Fair enough. Cheap motel it is” Dean announced, unfazed. “What about food? You okay with artery-clogging burgers and lukewarm coffee?”

Castiel let out an amused huff before shrugging.

“I suppose it's just a part of every road trip, isn't it?”

“It is if you're travelling with me”.

“Then I'm okay with that”.

Their eyes met and it took Dean a few moments to remember he should be watching the road instead. He mentally kicked himself and turned back towards the windshield. If their new habit of staring at each other continued, they were likely to end up in a fucking ditch, all just because Dean was slowly getting hypnotised by a set of ridiculously blue eyes. Awesome.

 

Finding a cheap motel took them less than half an hour. It was located right on the side of the main road and for a localisation like that, it had suspiciously many vacancies. As they got out of the car and walked over to the office, Dean leaned right into Castiel's personal space.

“If the owner says that a boy's best friend is his mother, _run_ ” he muttered into his ear. Cas snorted and tilted his head so that his lips were dangerously close to Dean's ear.

“Either that, or I just won't close the shower curtain when I take a bath” Castiel replied, his hot breath ghosting over Dean's skin. Before he could even process what Cas just said, the man was already a few steps ahead of him and Dean had to force both his brain and his feet to catch up.

 

The air conditioning in the motel office was a true blessing, since just after the morning storm the Sun decided to put on a little show, leaving that part of Illinois both hot and grossly humid. Sweat was clinging to Dean's skin, and the blow of cool air when he entered the room made him shiver. He looked around, taking in the simple, boring décor and the empty space behind the counter. He and Cas exchanged a look, before Castiel gently hit the bell on the desk to announce their presence. After a moment of silence, a tall, middle-aged man appeared in the doorway. He was wearing the most bored expression Dean has ever seen on someone who wasn't a teenager going through a phase and that thought made him smirk. The smile turned into a friendly grin, but was never returned, so Dean settled for a little strained “hello”.

“Anything I can do for you, fellas?” the man asked, not even bothering to properly greet them.

“Yeah, we'll take two single rooms for tonight, paid in cash. Oh, and uh, throw in some extra chocolates on the pillows” Dean's comment gained him an amused eye-roll from Cas and a very unamused sigh from the reception guy.

“Want any fries with that?” he replied lazily, handing them their keys. They thanked him without much gratitude and left the office, heading back to the car to get their things.

 

“Dude wasn't exactly friendly, but he didn't strike me as a serial killer” Dean said lightly, throwing his duffel bag over his shoulder. Castiel hummed in agreement, preoccupied with retrieving his coat from the depths of Impala's trunk.

“He seemed too lazy to be a blood-thirty murderer” he said flatly and Dean chuckled.

“Maybe he was just tired after skinning his last victim” he replied and it was Castiel's turn to smile.

“Could be. Better lock the doors when we go to sleep”.

“But not close our shower curtains, huh?”

Cas gave him a funny look and was Dean imaging it, or was there a faint blush creeping on his cheeks?

 

They walked the rest of the way to their adjacent rooms in silence. They stopped by the doors to discuss what time they should get up the next morning to hit the road and after settling for 8 am they wished each other goodnight, even though the Sun was still hovering over the horizon, and then went into their rooms.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Dean let out a deep breath. So far everything was going pretty well. He covered quite an impressive milage in one day, his baby had a chance to spin her wheels a little, and the stranger he picked up on the side of the road turned out to be an easy companion. He also had the potential of becoming Dean's number one problem, with his perfect stubble, firm hands, chapped lips and...

No. Stop right there.

Dean shook his head and closed his eyes. Instead of letting his mind wander into places it should avoid, he'd better take a shower. Or better still, go straight to bed. He really was exhausted and taking a shower in this state was likely to end with him falling asleep in the bathtub and drowning. What a heavenly way to die.

He threw his bag on the bed, not even bothering to unpack it. They were leaving first thing in the morning anyway, so that would only be a waste of time. Instead, he just fished out his favourite T-shirt and was in the middle of taking his jeans off when he heard water run in the next-door room. Cas was taking a shower and Dean was very pointedly _not_ thinking about it. Distracting himself seemed like a great idea, so he climbed into bed with his phone, set on sending a quick text to Sam.

_Hey Sammy, just checked in a motel and about to call it a night. Gonna leave first thing in the morning. You good?_

Dean barely had the chance to get under the covers before he got a reply. He flipped open his phone and smiled at the message.

_I'm great, just chilling on the beach with Jess. She says hi :) Sleep well and drive safe!_

Dean huffed in amusement and closed his phone. His little brother was having the time of his life with the most amazing girl and Dean couldn't be happier about it. He already considered Jess a part of their little family and he knew that she meant the world to Sam, which by extension meant that she was just as important to him.

This realisation made him think of all the other people he considered his family, blood or not. It was very small at first – just him, his mom and dad and this crying little thing his parents claimed to be his baby brother. And then his mom died and his family got even smaller. For years on it was just the three of them – two lost brothers holding on to each other for dear life and an ever-absent father. Then Bobby came into their lives bringing gruff affection and the smell of car oil with him and if Dean was being honest with himself, that grumpy old man was more of a dad to him that his own father ever was.

And then, just a few years ago, John died. It was liberating, in a sense. Dean loved his piss-poor excuse of a father with blind devotion, but even he knew their relationship was far from healthy, and when he got that call in the middle of the night, someone calling from the hospital to tell him that they had found his father cold-dead and with more alcohol in his system than humanly possible, for the first time in years he felt like he could breathe.

It didn't last long, that horrifying relief. A few days later he showed up at his dad's funeral in a rumpled suit and drunk out of his mind, and didn't even bother to say a prayer or a goodbye. When the last pile of dirt covered John's coffin Dean turned around and didn't look back at his brother or Bobby as he staggered his way out of the graveyard and into another bar. His road to self-destruction would probably go on for weeks if it wasn't for the last two family members he still had. They found him and shook him up like only they could, with tough love and “ain't taking none of your shit” attitude. Bobby let him stay at his house for as long as he needed and one night, when he thought Dean was ready to hear it, he took his face in his rough, calloused hands and told him that he was a better man his dad could ever be. Dean cried like a child.

Sam had a different approach. He bought Dean a laptop, a cheap but solid machine, and told Dean to write. “You need to get your Chinaski out of your system, Dean” he told him and Dean listened. It was a good therapy, that angry writing, a silent scream he was holding off for too damn long. That was his first book, the one that started it all. Suddenly he wasn't just a useless grunt anymore, he was a writer. He could start his life anew and that was exactly what he did. The money he got for his book was just enough to rent a modest, but charming apartment in the windy city and so, step by step, as his life expanded, so did his family. Some of them were old friends reaching out, like Ellen and Jo, some were new and unexpected people elbowing their way to his heart, like Benny and Charlie, but no matter who they were or where they came from, he welcomed them all the same.

The sound of a tap being turned off in the next-door room snapped him back to reality. Cas has just finished taking a shower and now he was probably drying himself off with a towel. Dean sighed and turned to his side, trying to chase away the image of naked and wet Castiel. In his sleep-fogged mind he thought about just how Cas would fit into his life. There was still one empty slot, ready to be taken, and he briefly wondered if Cas would be a good match. He fell asleep before he could reach a conclusion.

* * *

Castiel stepped out of the bathroom and padded over to the bed on the other side of the small motel room. The water pressure in the shower was far from perfect, but he had enjoyed it anyway. He was glad to cleanse his body of the sweat and road dirt that covered it after he has spent an entire day on the road, and only half of it inside a welcoming car of a complete stranger. Because that was who Dean was to him – a stranger. Castiel still couldn't believe that he had actually agreed to get in his car. Sure, it was raining and he was getting tired and soaking wet, but Dean could've been a serial killer, a lunatic or a mad drug addict. Castiel should have known better, and yet he had trusted him and accepted his help. Even worse, he had agreed to join him. It was beyond reckless, it was downright stupid, and Castiel couldn't help but shake his head at his own foolishness. What on earth was he thinking?

He sighed, hanging his wet towel over the back of a chair to let it dry. Of course the only reasonable thing to do was to tell Dean first thing in the morning that he simply could not join him on his road trip. That's it, no explanations, no excuses. He would thank him for his help and company – which was more than nice, Castiel had to admit – then shake his hand and leave. It was a perfect plan, he thought, as he was putting on his pyjama pants.

Only that it wasn't. Dean didn't strike him as a bad person, quite the contrary, actually, so that argument wasn't convincing at all. And sure, the idea of going on a spontaneous road trip with someone he didn't even know seemed crazy and ridiculous, but wasn't it the whole point? He was already on the road, so he could as well share the experience with someone, just like he was supposed to in the first place. The person he was going to share it with was no longer there and Castiel's whole being still ached for her, but he knew she would have wanted him to have a companion. So why not Dean Winchester? He could almost hear her exasperated voice in his head: “A hot stranger wants you to run away with him and you're considering saying 'no'? What the hell is wrong with you”.

That thought made him smile, a familiar warmth as red as her hair spreading through his chest, only to be replaced by a quick stab of pain. She was gone, and even if they both had seen it coming for a long time, he still wasn't ready to face the world without her. If he had a choice, he would have stayed at home and loose himself in work and routine, but it was not what he had promised her. And besides, Balthazar wouldn't let him do that. He insisted that Castiel should hit the road and he was even willing to go with him, but Castiel managed to convince him that it would be better if he did it alone. The last thing he needed right now was a concerned best friend constantly babysitting him. Besides, Balthazar was her friend too and he would only remind him of her. Dean, on the other hand, had nothing to do with it. Dean was new and unstained, a tabula rasa, and his warm, amiable company could help Castiel get his mind of the one thing he couldn't bear thinking about.

That settled his internal argument for good. He was going to stay with Dean, his classic car, old cassette tapes and dorky sense of humour, and maybe that would help him pick up the loose pieces of himself, threatening to fall off any time. With a heavy grunt, he slid under the covers of the unsurprisingly uncomfortable bed and closed his eyes. As expected, sleep didn't come to him for long hours, but when it finally did, it didn't bring any dreams and Castiel was grateful for it. The only thing he dreamt about those days was a weave of red hair, and he preferred the empty darkness of dreamless nights to those nightmares.

 

* * *

Dean slept like a rock that night and woke up only when a laser-like ray of sunshine slipped through the window and landed right on his face. It was still early in the morning, but he figured there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Instead, he rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom for a quick shower and his usual morning routine. He didn't hear any noises coming from Castiel's room, which either meant that the guy was still asleep or he was a ninja. Dean secretly hoped for the second option.

He still had some time to kill before their agreed time of departure, so he settled on the bed with his laptop, determined to start working on his new book. He made several attempts at writing, his fingers ghosting over the keyboard and his lower lip caught between his teeth, but no words came out of his mind. After long minutes of trying to force his brain to work he waved a white flag and closed his laptop. Inspiration would come to him eventually, it always did, but right now all he could do was wait for it. Well, there was another thing he could do, Dean thought, grabbing the key to his room from the night-stand. He was hungry and in a desperate need for coffee, and he figured Cas would feel the same. Thankfully there was a small gas station on the other side of the road and he was ready to bet twenty bucks they had some sandwiches and cheap coffee.

It was just after eight when he knocked on Castiel's door, but there was no response. Another knock, this time much louder, and there was a soft shuffling noise coming from the inside of the room. Dean put on his most charming smile, ready to greet Cas with a cheerful “Howdy!”, but the smile froze on his face the moment Castiel opened the door.

The first thing he registered was _skin_. Miles of it, it seemed, tanned and beautiful, spreading right in front of him. Apparently Castiel liked to sleep in nothing but sweatpants. Good to know. Dean tried to look away, a hot blush already creeping up his neck, and his eyes fell on the mess of dark hair sticking out around Castiel's head in a mockery of a halo. The guy looked like the seven sins impersonated and Dean was suddenly glad that he wasn't the one wearing sweatpants or things would get pretty awkward. He swallowed and met Castiel's gaze.

“Uh” Dean said, ever so eloquently. Cas stepped aside to let him in, murmuring something that sounded like “hello, Dean”, but his voice was too hoarse from sleep for Dean to be sure. Castiel's Just Rolled Out Of Bed attire had caught him off-guard, but he managed to compose himself and shoot him a smile that was only slightly forced.

“I come bearing gifts” he said, holding out two cups of coffee and a paper bag with sandwiches. Castiel tilted his head, taking in the improvised breakfast in Dean's hands, and the grumpy frown he was sporting was replaced by a small smile.

“Thank you. That's very kind of you.”

“Yeah, well. The least I could do” Dean shrugged, trying to hide how pleased he was. “I uh, I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked so I kinda just picked the most neutral option.”

Cas took the bag from Dean and peeked inside.

“That's actually perfect” he assured him, before excusing himself to the bathroom. “I'll just go put on some clothes, if you don't mind. I'm sorry for the way I look, I literally just woke up”.

“No need to apologize” Dean muttered, appreciating the way Cas' sweatpants were clinging to his ass.

“I'm sorry?” Castiel asked, stopping in the doorframe. Dean blushed again and mentally kicked himself for having no control over his stupid pie hole.

“No, nothing. You go do your thing and then we'll have breakfast and hit the road, alright?”. Another small smile was the only response he got before Cas disappeared into the bathroom.

 

They discussed their plan for the day over breakfast. Castiel was quiet, contemplative, and he claimed he didn't care where they would drive next, as long as they kept going. Dean could get behind that. They loaded their stuff back into the car and drove off, leaving a metaphorical cloud of road dust behind them.

After a good night sleep and a cup of coffee, with a whole day of rambling on ahead of him, Dean was bursting with energy.

“You're in a good mood” Castiel noticed. Dean grinned at him.

“Hell yeah I am. Life is good today, isn't it?”

“I suppose”.

“Oh come on, grumpy, lighten up a little. How about we play twenty questions, huh? Get to know each other better”.

Castiel seemed reluctant to play such a silly game, but he agreed. They started out with simple questions about favourite foods and hobbies, but the conversation got pretty heated when Dean asked about Cas' favourite episode of Star Wars.

“It's 'The Empire Strikes Back'. What's yours?”

“'Return of the Jedi', obviously” Dean said in his best 'duh' voice.

“Well, it's not exactly an obvious choice” Castiel muttered, his face turned towards the window.

“Of course it is. Episode VI is the best.”

“I think you mean the worst.”

“Excuse me?” Dean glared at Cas with outrage, the road and other cars passing them by temporarily forgotten. “You can't be serious, it's the best movie in the whole fucking franchise. Name one thing, _one thing_ from that film that wasn't absolutely awesome.”

Cas didn't miss a beat.

“Ewoks.”

“E- _Oh my God, Cas, they were the best part!_ ” Dean knew he was acting as if somehow Castiel's opinion offended him personally, but he didn't care. There were only few things in this world he considered sacred, and his favourite Star Wars movie was one of them.

“They were basically just teddy bears” Cas pointed out, slightly amused with Dean's outburst.

“You're basically just a teddy bear.”

Cas snorted and turned to him. “I'm sorry?”

“Yeah, okay, not my best come back, but _come on_ , how can you not like Ewoks? They're both adorable and badass.”

“I think they're a little silly” Cas said in all seriousness.

“You're a little silly.”

Dean's petty remark gained him a small laugh from his passenger, a quiet, sun-filled sound.

“See? Your comebacks are getting better” Cas said, smiling at him, and Dean couldn't help but return the grin. He got caught in this little moment shared with Cas and he wished it could last, but after a second their expressions softened and the moment was gone.

Turning back to the road, Dean said:

“Alright, let's agree to disagree on that one. But since we're talking about epic film franchises, what's your favourite Indiana Jones movie?”

“You know, I've never actually seen any Indiana Jones films.”

Dean cursed and threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Okay, that's it, I'm pulling over and kicking you out of this car” he announced, before pointing an accusatory finger at Castiel.

“I don't know who you are or what kind of a rock you've been living under this whole time, but I'm gonna show you the cinematic masterpiece that is this franchise and you're gonna love it, capiche?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but there was amusement and perhaps even a hint of fondness behind that gesture.

“Judging by how passionate you are about it, I'm guessing that putting up any resistance would be pointless, so sure, why not” he said, shrugging.

Dean proclaimed his victory by enthusiastically patting Cas' chest and yelling “That's the spirit!”. Castiel laughed again, but the sound died abruptly, as if the man was surprised it escaped him in the first place. Unfazed, Dean continued chatting about the greatness of the Lucas-Spielberg duo, encouraged by how Cas seemed to be genuinely interested in what he had to say. Usually when he started geeking out about something Sam either indulged him or, if he was having a good day, even joined him, but the rest of his friends just shook their heads and teased him about it. Except for Charlie, of course, but that was a no-win scenario anyway, since she tended to completely out-geek him on every level. Castiel, on the other hand, was a patient listener who asked him questions and didn't make any mocking comments about his interests, and frankly, it was something Dean wasn't used to.

He was starting to really like the guy. There was something about how quiet Cas usually was and how his face would lit up whenever Dean made a stupid joke or smiled at him that made Dean want to try harder and get to know him better. It suddenly hit him that it was only their second day together and that they had many more ahead of them, and that thought made him smile. And if he started whistling a cheery tune after that, who was there to stop him?

 

* * *

They pulled over for lunch in a little diner on the side of the road. The dusty parking lot was almost empty, save for a car or two, and in the blinding light of the high summer sun it looked sad and silent. Dean parked the car next to a big truck sitting heavily in the middle of the lot, and when he turned off the engine the silence was almost deafening. Castiel's heart felt heavy all of a sudden, the familiar emptiness settling in his bones. But then Dean laughed nervously and looked at him with a sheepish smile, saying “Wow, this place looks awful. Wanna go somewhere else?”. And just like that the shadows disappeared, chased away by the earnest expression on Dean's face. Castiel could feel his whole body relax, a shy smile spreading on his face.

“No, it's okay. It doesn't look that bad.”

“I like your enthusiasm, comrade” Dean said, patting his knee playfully. Castiel couldn't help but notice that it was the second time that day that Dean touched him. Sure, both touches were just friendly gestures, casual and innocent, but they felt warm against his clothed skin and he found himself wanting more. Before he could react though, Dean was already climbing out of the car and Castiel had no choice but to follow him.

The inside of the diner was cool and quiet. Somewhere in the back room the radio was playing a little tune and there was a fly buzzing angrily on the window by their booth, but it was all just background noise. As soon as they sat down, a waitress came to take their orders. She blushed when Dean looked up and smiled at her, and Castiel huffed at that. Yesterday he was tired and confused and didn't really have the chance to take a good look at his companion, but when he opened the door this morning and saw Dean standing there, all bright smile and sun-kissed nonchalance, he felt out of breath.

When the waitress left their table, Dean fell silent and fixed his gaze on the sleepy scenery of the parking lot, giving Cas the opportunity to properly study his features. He felt silly, trying to look at Dean without getting caught, but he felt drawn to that warm, beautiful face like a moth to a candle. He laughed at himself for thinking of the cheesiest simile possible, but it was accurate. With the weight of recent events sitting on his shoulders like a pair of heavy wings, he felt small and insignificant, fluttering desperately to find a way out. And Dean was so bright and warm, buzzing with energy and smiling at Cas with that lazy confidence that made his heart race, so how could Castiel look away? He grimly wondered if his wings would catch on fire, but then maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing, maybe that could set him free.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. _Enough with waxing poetics, he's just a guy_ , he thought to himself. Perhaps he was more socially misfit the he had thought, if just one attractive and friendly person could get under his skin so easily.

Dean, on his part, seemed oblivious to Castiel's inner turmoil. He kept staring out the window, his forehead creased in thought and his lip caught between his teeth, much to Cas' dismay. After a while he fished a small pencil out of a pocket of his jeans and started scribbling something on a diner napkin. Castiel tilted his head with interest, fascinated by the way Dean seemed so completely lost in his thoughts and whatever it was he was writing. He didn't even notice when the waitress came back with their food and Cas had to nudge his foot under the table to make him look up from the improvised piece of paper.

“Huh?” Dean said, confused.

“The food is here” Castiel explained with a small smile. Dean finally noticed the burger placed right in front of him and downright beamed with happiness.

“And here I was thinking you were playing footsies with me” he said, shamelessly winking at Cas before sinking his teeth in the sandwich. Castiel knew he was blushing and he hated himself for it, but Dean was obviously too engrossed in eating to notice anything. Thank God for small blessings.

“What were you writing?” Cas asked after a while of munching on his burger. Dean swallowed and shrugged.

“Just a few ideas for my new book.”

“Oh” Castiel straightened with interest, the burger he was still holding in his hand temporarily forgotten. “What kind of ideas? If you don't mind me asking.”

Dean shrugged again. “Nothing special” he admitted, but Castiel fixed him with a stern look and he had to give in. “I was just thinking about what could be the main plot or like the set up for the story and then I thought – hey, why not write a book about being on the road? I mean sure, it's nothing new, but it's not like you can come up with a one hundred percent original idea anyway. Everything was already done before, over and over again, so all you have to offer to the world is just another version of a story we all already know.” He took a sip of his coke before continuing. “So I figured it would make sense to write about something I know, especially since I'm on the road _right now_ and it's all fresh and clear to me. So I have the set up, but I haven't figured out who the characters could be or like what could happen to them.”

“And how are you going to come up with that?”

“I dunno. It'll come to me, it always does.” Dean shrugged again and flashed a quick smile at Cas before returning to his burger.

 

They made small talk for the rest of the lunch and then left the diner and the dusty parking lot behind them. They talked some more in the car about nothing in particular, but after a while they both fell silent and Dean decided it was a good moment to play some music. Castiel felt a little tired and the soft tunes of some rock ballad Dean was humming along to put him to sleep. He woke up a few hours later, when the sun was already low on the horizon. The world was painted gold and when he looked over at Dean that afternoon haze seemed to be coating him possessively.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty” Dean said and laughed when Cas scoffed at him. “You're always this grumpy when you wake up?”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Almost four hours. I was getting pretty bored all by myself in here.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't sleep well last night.”

Dean glanced at him with worry.

“There's something troubling you?” he asked, and that took Cas by surprise. Most people would probably dismiss it or just assume that he had had too much coffee before going to sleep, but Dean's first instinct was to make sure that he was okay and that he didn't have any problems that would keep him up at night. Dean's genuine interest in him and they way he sometimes flirted with him made Castiel wonder if that was just the way Dean was with everyone, or if there was something else going on between them.

“I'm fine” he said, giving Dean an assuring smile. Dean hummed in understanding and that was the end of the conversation. Cas thought that perhaps one day he could tell Dean about what had happened just weeks ago that was still like a stab in the heart for him, but now was not the time. Instead he asked Dean about their whereabouts and where they were going to stop for the night, and Dean was happy to answer him, clearly excited about being on the road. His enthusiasm was contagious and soon Cas too was bursting with energy and good mood.

 

When the night rolled in they stopped in the nearest motel, not much different from the one they slept in before. They said goodbye to each other and went into their separate rooms. Castiel took a shower and was just about to call Balthazar to update him on his trip when he heard a knock on the door. On the other side of it was no one other than Dean. He was holding a six-pack of beer in his hand and he had a laptop tucked under his arm. He smiled at Castiel shyly.

“Hey, Cas. I thought that maybe we could watch Indiana Jones together. You've lived what, thirty years?, without ever seeing this awesome movie and I figured it was time to put an end to this madness. But if you're tired or busy then that's fine, we can do it another time.”

“No, now is perfect. Come in.”

Dean beamed at him and walked into the room, and Cas couldn't hold down the huge smile that made its way on his face as he closed the door.

“Aw, that's not fair, your room is bigger than mine” Dean complained.

“We can switch, if you want to” Cas offered, but the other man just waved at him dismissively.

“Nah, it's okay. Maybe next time I'll get the bigger one and then we'll be even. Want some beer?”

They settled on Castiel's bed with their backs propped on the headboard and Dean's laptop sitting awkwardly on their laps. They were sitting so close to each other, their bodies lined up from arm to ankle, that a pleasant buzz spread through Cas' skin, making his heart beat a little too fast. Dean smelled nice, a reach earthly scent of leather and pines, and Cas wondered if his bedding would smell like that after Dean left. He hoped it would.

The movie was surprisingly good and Cas enjoyed it from start to end. Dean's constant stream of comments only improved the experience and it was when those comments stopped that Cas realised Dean fell asleep. He must have been tired after a long day of driving and Castiel didn't have the heart to wake him up, so he decided to watch the rest of the film by himself and let Dean continue napping on his bed. The idea seemed good at the time, but thirty minutes before the end of the movie Dean's head lulled to the side and rested on Castiel's shoulder.

Goosebumps spread across his skin, together with warmth of the body laying next to him. Dean's breath was coming out in hot puffs against his neck, which did nothing to calm him down, and Cas cursed himself for having such a strong reaction to something so trivial. It's been so long since he was in any intimate situation with anyone that now his body was at alert even though there was nothing sexual about the way Dean's body relaxed against his.

After the initial surprise at the feeling of having someone so close to him died down, Castiel was able to compose himself and watch the rest of the movie without getting too distracted. When the end credits rolled in, he closed the laptop and nudged at Dean gently. The man mumbled something incoherent and snuggled closer to Cas, hooking his arm around his waist. Castiel knew he should be worried, or perhaps freaked out, but the only thing he felt at that moment was warmth and something akin to happiness.

Without giving much thought to it, he shifted carefully as not to wake Dean up and put the laptop on the night stand before pulling the comforter over them both and turning off the light. In the darkness Dean's breath seemed louder and the places where their bodies touched felt both too hot and not nearly enough, and Cas could almost see the alarming red lights flashing in his head. Was it too weird that he was letting someone he barely knew sleep with him like this? Probably. But it felt good, having someone warm and soft next to him, and before he could change his mind about it Castiel fell asleep with Dean's arm a firm weight around his waist.


End file.
